In the pits of our souls - if I amuse myself with the notion that I have a soul - Elian and I aren't so different. Two kingdoms that come with responsibilities we each have trouble bearing. Him, the shackles of being pinned to one land and one life. Me, trapped in the confines of my mother's murderous legacy. And the ocean, calling out to us both. A song of freedom and longing.
Some people burn so brightly, it's impossible to put the flames out.
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
He shrugs. "What I do best."
"Getting on my last nerve ?"
"Saving you," he replies picking up his sword. "This is the second time. Not that I'm counting."
“You are a little heartless today, aren’t you?”
“Never,” I say. “There are seventeen under my bed.”
"People don't tell secrets because someone needs to know them. They do it because they need someone to tell."
"Lira," I say, "I don't suppose you'd be kind enough to translate?"
"I've never been accused of kindness before."
I let it all fall away. My mission, my kingdom. The world. They exist somewhere other than in this moment, and now there is only this. Me, my ship, and a girl with oceans in her eyes.
"_ Lies aren't answers.
_ But they sound so much better than the truth."
Technically, I'm a murderer, but I like to think that's one of my better qualities.
"Wars aren't won by running," she says.
"You can't win a war," I tell her. "Someone else just loses."
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